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In Ecstasy And Pain
Folder:
Satish Verma Stargazing
under a new sky.
Buried in the sands
of time,
to locate the gate of moon.
Nothing else moves
in my thoughts, except
a Venus fly-trap.
Your hinged, slanted
eyes, capturing my words.
Then your maze bleeds
in the spotless dawn
of baby year.
Between a mortal
and a saint.
I hang my mirror
to prove the divinity of the dust
of god.
